


Knowing You

by Louis_the_Snake



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bottom James T. Kirk, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Spock Loves James T. Kirk, Spock is a Mess (Star Trek), contrived scifi nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louis_the_Snake/pseuds/Louis_the_Snake
Summary: Spock's POV. Vulcan minds can seem a little neurotic to non-vulcan observers. He reflects on his neurosis before he has to save Kirk from his mind getting shutdown.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Kudos: 50





	Knowing You

Spock did not like sleeping. Thankfully, he didn’t have to sleep often. Sleeping opened his mind up to that human phenomena of dreaming. His dreams did not remain logical. In fact, they often woke him when he did want to sleep. They weren’t all nightmares. They were occasionally about Kirk. It was not hard to see why.  
He is, by many accounts, the most beautiful man in the universe. There were always other species’ opinions of beauty, but Kirk surpassed many of them. He was uniquely soft, uniquely strong. He cared genuinely for the people he met, and cared for them as powerfully as he cared for his own life. That is, below the lives of his ship and crew, but above all others.   
Spock knew everything that was possible to know about Kirk in his position. He’d practically memorized his records in the system, his service awards, his early life. He knew his habits from observation. He knew his tactical mind better than he knew the Star Fleet serviceman manuals, from chess and from the hours spent in tense situations together.   
It did not feel like enough. It never felt like he knew Jim well enough. If he were perfectly logical, he might be content with knowing that much. Jim’s unpredictability did have advantages, as much as it could damage well-laid plans.   
Unfortunately for all involved, Spock was not perfectly logical. He endeavored to be, but of course, he had his human side, not to mention the deep emotions that were typical of Vulcans, and the curiosity that drove him into the stars. This curiosity drove him as strongly as it had before, but instead of up and outward, it drove him into that gravitational-magnetic smile, those eyes that ought to be painted everywhere, and the soft warmth of the strong body belonging to James T. Kirk.   
That was illogical, impractical, and irrational. But it was immeasurably true. Even after the years serving together on the bridge of the Enterprise, Spock still felt as though Kirk was actually the most intriguing mystery he’d found.   
The dreams of Kirk revolved mostly around the facts that he did know for certain, but with the questions that rose around the edges finding their speculative conclusions.   
Kirk could talk his way out of torture, and Spock knew that if Kirk wanted to, he could talk his way into the bed of anyone he wanted, including Spock’s. As illogical as it sounded at face value, Kirk would no doubt talk his way around to it. It would be difficult to find someone who was as well rounded or who was better with his tongue.   
A beloved captain and figure within Star Fleet, with commendation records miles long, Kirk was perhaps the universe’s most wanted bachelor. The only reason he hadn’t settled down yet was because he feared his career would get in the way of him being able to give his full love and attention to a spouse. Spock often found himself chiding that little voice in his mind that told him that if he were the one to marry Kirk, then there would be no conflict of interest. They were both willing to die for the other, and that was not likely to change any time soon. Neither was it likely that either of them would stop risking their own lives and even the lives of their crew for the other, as much as Spock despised that he still did that.   
When they had to dress up for a diplomatic mission, Spock found his eyes wandering the captain’s form, counting and reciting the ribbons on his jacket and their meaning, admiring where the gold border of their dress jackets met Kirk’s red-pink-tan skin. Opposites, their blood was, in the color spectrum as understood by humans, but in vulcan eyes red and green were closer, almost dull, since distinguishing shades of yellow and purple were more important on Vulcan.   
When they had to dress down, for decontamination, for sparring matches, for human forms of recreation, Spock’s eyes were instead drawn to the captain’s back. The rippling human muscles, connected in all the wrong places, or all the right places for a human, the years, decades, of scars he’d received in the line of duty, awards of valor in their own right, lured Spock’s attention from the moment, enough that he would begin meditation breathing to remain present.  
The pliancy of the captain’s body never escaped notice, either. They touched more often than they likely would if they were not such close friends. If Kirk fell, Spock would catch him, and the opposite. If Spock was injured, even lightly, Kirk was there, worrying over him like the primate in him told him to, even to the dismay of Doctor McCoy. The comfortable arms of the captain were a fair place to be, and often led to the impression of security even in the most dire situation.   
Where Spock’s definite knowledge ended was very clear in his waking mind. He had never seen the captain naked, nor had he any particular desire to or to avoid it. He had never learned Kirk’s favorite flavor of Iced Cream. He didn’t know if Jim liked classical music because of his mother’s taste or his other family, or if it had been a rebellious phase he’d grown used to. He didn’t know the origin of every single scar, only approximately eighty five point eight percent of them.   
Even in the deepest of drunkenness he knew what was fact and what was speculation on his part, but his sleeping mind didn’t care. In his dreams, he saw Kirk’s entire form, all of him as scarred and as fit and as perfect as the rest of him. He knew all of Kirk’s favorite things. He was Kirk’s favorite everything, in his dreams. Sleeping, he knew the touch of Kirk’s tongue to his own, the taste of human sweat and occasionally human blood, the sounds Kirk made at his hands. Sleeping, he found out every single thing he wanted to know about Kirk, but it only raised more questions, and left him wanting more of him.   
Spock was careful to keep his dreams to himself, especially when speaking to Doctor McCoy or the Captain himself. They were unprofessional, and McCoy would likely take them as a sign of pathological obsession. Melding with the captain’s mind was particularly delicate, but Spock trusted in his own mental fortitude and the walls he built to protect himself from such invasion.   
It was unsurprising to find that the captain had less strength in his own mind, without the vulcan training and meditations there was no way to build or maintain strong walls around one’s core like Spock had. But Spock was careful. He knew how easy it would be to break Kirk’s mind with a meld, and he fettered his own curiosity to protect the captain from his probing. There were recesses in Kirk that Spock intentionally left unexplored, feelings and safe-boxes left dusty, for the captain to hold private. Spock would never violate the trust Kirk placed in him, even if the captain was unaware of the power Spock wielded when he entered his mind.   
It wasn’t until Kirk had been left trapped in his mind that Spock ever needed to use some of that force to break him free.   
Some alien force had entered through Jim’s ocular nerve, as a kind of sentient information encoded in the patterns on the screen, and left Kirk comatose. His heart beat, his lungs functioned, but he couldn’t move even his eyes. McCoy closed his eyes to keep them from getting dry, but he couldn’t find any way to communicate with him in such a state, and they needed to know how to break him out of it. Spock was called only after all alternatives had been considered, since he was, of course, commanding a ship.   
Spock sat beside the Captain’s bed in the medical bay, clearing his own mind while McCoy did his very best to prepare the unconscious man for a mind melding. Heart rate would be monitored, blood pressure, all his vitals really, but the fluids he was being fed and the respirator would have to be removed. Spock let his hand fall naturally upon the meld points. It was odd how familiar he was with Kirk’s form to do that so effortlessly. Not even bondmates bonded like this so often, since their minds were truly linked.   
He fell- or soared- into Kirk’s mind. Kirk was there, alright, awake, alert, confused, anxious. It- he- well, the life energy that Kirk’s conscious mind both controlled and was consisting of- rose up to the familiar feeling of Spock there in his mind’s chambers. Spock did not take his time to console and comfort Kirk, he was on a mission. What Happened and Where Was The Thing. The information was all right here, in the maze of memories and emotions Kirk called home. Spock amusingly reminded himself that this was becoming something of a second home to him. He knew where all the faculties rested, where Kirk sorted through memories and perception, where he kept his feelings for others and his anxieties about himself.   
It was there. Among the fear Kirk had about never being good enough, not even with all his confidence and experience, the anxiety that all humans were plagued with of being a child play-acting their role in society, Spock found the thing.   
Wirey, slippery, fuzzy around the edges, it evaded Spock and Kirk’s fused essence. They fought to get it captured in the cube Spock built for it out of scientific interest and distaste for its methods. It felt like a Saresian Tube-Cat, impossible to grab and even harder to predict, but they got it in the cube and Spock prepared to remove both it and himself when something ‘fell’ in Kirk’s mind.   
Like an old suitcase busting open, Spock felt the dispersal of something intoxicating being tossed throughout the mind. Like dirty laundry being aired, Kirk’s mind supplied. Impressions of dreams, of memories, of nightmares and concealed desires flew past Spock, close enough he could taste what Kirk dreamed of. Pleasure, intimacy, some sort of painful and yet painless force that would overtake him, pin him down. The strong captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, brought low- and being exactly where he wanted to be.   
Kirk flared in embarrassment, but Spock carefully took his cube and the thing and pulled himself back into his own mind, giving Kirk back free reign over his own space again.   
Spock came to and immediately got to writing the data down in frantic scribbles on the tablet provided to him, getting it out of his own head and onto a form he could control. He heard Kirk coming to behind him, sitting up and asking Bones what had happened. He heard Bones make him lay back and begin to check up on him with the medical scanner.   
When the information was down, Spock turned around to survey the scene. Kirk- no, not his Kirk, he did not possess him- was well again, if a little sore from the tumble he took onto the console. Bones was content doctoring him and clearing him for duty. Nurse Chapel was already putting away the equipment they had used to assist him. Kirk grinned.   
“Well, Bones, it seems like you can’t get rid of me that easily. Thank you Mr.Spock.”   
“Of course, captain.” Spock nodded, suppressing his own smile.   
“I’d like to head back to my quarters, now, if you don’t mind, doctor. I swear I will get some rest.”   
“You’d better, Jim, or I will come after you. I remind you that I’ve got final say on your diet plans, Captain, and I’m not afraid to come for your tastebuds.” Bones didn’t mean it, his eyes were smiling more than he was.   
Spock got up and took more mental notes on the sentient string of data, wondering how to log such a thing without releasing it into the computer to have free reign within it. Kirk stopped him.   
“Well, Mr.Spock, it seems we have you to blame once again for my continued command of this ship.”   
“As always, Captain.”   
“I’d like to see you in my quarters once you’ve handled the report, alright?”   
“Of course, Captain.” It was not an ‘of course’ moment, but Spock acted like he had expected such a calling. He had considered it a possibility, of course, but he found no need to discuss what had occured within Kirk’s mind. A simple loosening of Kirk’s proverbial tongue on his secrets, not to be unexpected with an inexperienced hoster of telepathic forces. Of course, the human would probably have questions and apologies and emotional responses he needed to express to such an ordeal. Spock was used to that much.   
Spock left and logged the creature- the data-form- with a slight modification to the encoding which he left a key to, alongside the warnings, readings, and all known facts about the creature, and left a series of questions to investigate later, perhaps to give to experienced computer scientists who’d worked with similar alien codes before.   
Once that was done, he waited exactly three more minutes to give Jim a proper 15 minute mind break within his quarters, then stepped on in.   
“Captain, you reques-”  
“Yes, Mr.Spock, do come in.”   
Kirk was on his bed, fully clothed, relaxing back thoughtfully.   
“I hope logging it has been no trouble.”   
“Not at all, sir, in fact-”   
“I trust you know all the details, but spare me them for the moment. What happened in my head?”   
“Specify, please.”   
“Something went down while you were snooping around in there, I want to know what that was.”   
“Ah, Captain. You are referring to your unintended sharing of private thoughts. It is quite normal for those who are unused to telepathic communication to inadvertently share thoughts they would rather remain secret. I can assure you I harbor no judgement against you for them.”   
“How- now, don’t take this as offense, Spock, but how closely did you see those thoughts that came up?”   
“I perceived brief impressions, sir. Mostly broad mood and sensory data that seemed important to you at the time. Nothing specific.”   
Kirk relaxed, leaning back against his pillow.   
“I understand, Mr.Spock, thank you.”   
“Of course Captain. It might benefit you, if you do intend to continue utilizing my telepathic abilities, to study up on building mental blocks to protect yourself from such incidents. It is difficult for psi-null species, but possible.”   
“I will, thank you Mr.Spock. You can go, now.” Kirk stumbled slightly on his last suggestion as he slipped into deep thought.   
Spock rose, stepped beyond the divider In Kirk’s quarters, and had half-crossed the front section before he heard Kirk speak up again.   
“I assume you have such mental blocks in place, then?”   
Spock halted, “Yes sir, I have trained much of my life to protect myself from potential telepathic invasions of privacy.”   
“I wondered why your mind always felt so clear and collected. It is an enviable skill, Mr.Spock.”   
“Indeed, Captain.”   
With no more reason to stay, Spock left the Captain’s quarters. He crossed the hall and stepped into his own quarters. Being home helped him slip into a neutral emotional state. He lit the incense and sat upon his own bed, correcting his posture and beginning deep meditative breathing.   
Logically. Logically, he knew Kirk’s mind was less guarded, he knew Kirk had no conscious reason that those were the memories conjured up when Spock was there, had no say in what got revealed. But instinctively? Spock craved to see more. He wanted to pin Jim down and meld with him again, to pull that memory file out and act out every fantasy Kirk had ever had. It was a fleeting desire of the primal part of his brain, but he had to acknowledge it, accept it, and package it away into his logical organization of mind. He couldn’t have this fracturing of his thoughts while he needed to work. Deep breaths. Deep thoughts.   
He filed that fleeting desire away with his insatiable curiosity for the captain, among things that he found pleasing to consider but impractical to act upon. That would be a good place for it, have his thoughts of the captain’s body set right beside his thoughts of what he might sound like, what he might want, next to his need to know what Kirk found exciting, and what his favorites were. Perfectly logical.   
Spock decided not to sleep that night. He calculated he shouldn’t need to sleep for at least four more nights. He decided to use some of his meditation time to mentally prepare himself for the fifth night. Dreams were going to touch on this topic, whether it was filed away tidily or not.


End file.
